


Just Want You to Know

by halfsweet



Series: Bingo Challenge [6]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Drunk Dialing, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: Patrick's wedding is tomorrow and Brendon's too sober to deal with it. So he drinks.





	Just Want You to Know

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song by Backstreet Boys :)

Patrick’s bachelor party was _insane._ It was good. It was entertaining. But it was also driving him _crazy_ , because every second he’s with Patrick, he’s always thinking of the dreadful day tomorrow when he has to watch Patrick getting married to Dallon.

He has no grudge against Dallon, really. Dallon’s a nice guy; there’s practically nothing wrong about him, and that’s what makes him hate the guy. He’s _too_ nice. So nice that he and Patrick deserve each other.

That’s why halfway through the party, he made an excuse to leave early so he can drink himself silly and wallow in his own sadness before the big day.

And now that he’s back home, there’s no one stopping him from drinking the entire bottle of whiskey. Nothing like a good liquor to heal his broken heart.

Half a bottle in, and he’s already feeling slightly tipsy. He bumps into walls on his way to his room, and he falls face-flat on the bed. Good thing the bed is in the way to soften his fall.

He crawls to the middle of the bed while attempting to take his jeans off, and that’s when he feels his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He fishes it out, staring at it in his hand.

Now, he may be drunk, but he’s not _too_ drunk. He still has half a control of his mind when he unlocks his phone, he’s aware of what he’s thinking, what he’s doing, and what’s he _going_ to say, but the other half of his mind—namely his impulse control and rational thinking—are beyond his reach. 

_“Bren? Did you get home safe?”_

His eyes close with a burning sensation at the back of his eyelids. He hates Patrick, really. He hates how kind his best friend is. He hates how he’s fallen deep with his best friend, knowing it’s a one-way trip. Unreciprocated and unrequited.

“I love you, you know that?”

_“I know, I love you too. It’s late, Brendon. It’s almost midnight. Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”_

“No, I mean it, Trick.” His throat constricts at the nickname that slipped out. “I’m in love with you ever since— I don’t know. Remember that time when we went to the beach with everyone and we built a sandcastle together to beat Pete’s? Remember that?”

_“Yea—”_

“I think that was it. That was probably the moment I realized I was in love you.” He breathes out a laugh and rolls on his back. “I probably loved you longer than that, but that was when it came to me.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe because I’m drunk. And stupid. And sad. I mean, you’re getting married tomorrow and here I am, drinking away and confessing my feelings to the person I love before they get married. I couldn’t be any more pathetic, right?

“Anyway, sorry for calling you this late. You should go to sleep. Big day tomorrow, huh? Less than 12 hours from now, you’re going to be—” He cuts himself off with a laugh, disguising the choked sob tearing at his throat. Patrick’s going to be someone else’s. “God, Pete’s going to kill me if I come with a hangover, isn’t he? You’re right, I should get to sleep. Night, Trick. Love you. Just thought you should know.”

Before he could end the call or hear what Patrick has to say, he’s already passed out on his bed. 

-

The blaring alarm from his phone jolts him from his sleep, and he rolls over with a groan, hand blindly reaching for his phone to shut the alarm. His head throbs with an excruciating headache, caused by none other than his hangover.

God, and it’s Patrick’s wedding today too. Why did he have to drink so much last night?

Through his sleepy haze, his brain—his sober and awake part of the brain—is slowly grinding its gears, warming up the rest of his brain and arranging his jumbled thoughts and blurred memories in order, and that’s when his eyes snap open.

Last night. Oh shit, last night. What happened last night after he got drunk? 

He sits up and scrambles for his phone, unlocking it with a number of failed attempts because of his headache, and checks his inbox. There’s nothing there except for a new message from his service provider, so he’s good. For now. He didn’t send any drunken texts to his friends or family.

He opens his Instagram next, checking his profile first to see if he uploaded embarrassing pictures of himself. Still nothing, because his last post is from a few months back. Then, he taps on the notification button— in case his friends tagged him in even more embarrassing and humiliating pictures that they took.

His shoulders sag in relief as he sets his phone down on the bed. This is good. Bad, but good. He got himself shitfaced drunk last night, all alone on the eve of Patrick’s wedding where _he’s_ the bestman, but nothing happened. He didn’t send any drunken texts or make any drunken posts, so he’s good.

Well, good for a second, he supposes. He still has to get up and get ready for the wedding. He still has to stand faithfully and quietly next to Patrick as Patrick gets married to someone else.

God really hates him, huh?

He pushes the dreadful feeling aside as he stumbles out of bed and makes his way to the shower. He can get through today just fine. If he can get through the preparation of Patrick and Dallon’s wedding all these months, then he can get though for one more day. Just one more day. Less than 24 hours.

He can do this.

Dressing up in the suit, he can’t shake off the heavy feeling in his stomach. Would something go wrong today? Can he trust himself not to make a scene?

He wants everything to be perfect for Patrick, but watching him getting married to someone else that’s not him…

He shoves the thought out of his mind. He can’t think that. Everything _will_ go according to plan today, by hook or by crook. He’ll personally make sure of it.

Although, when he steps out of his room, all ready to go to church, he sees Patrick in the living room, dressing only in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Patrick?”

Patrick jumps up in surprise before spinning around to face him. “Let’s go have breakfast.”

Brendon looks at him weirdly. “You’re not in your suit. Why don’t you head to the church and get ready, and I’ll buy you your breakfast?”

“No.” Patrick shakes his head. “I want pancakes. Now.”

Is it just him, or does Patrick seem strange today? Must be the wedding jitters. “Sure, I’ll check the nearest diner and have it delivered to you. You still need to get ready.”

Patrick doesn’t budge, however. If anything, he looks like his stubborn, everyday self. “No, I want you to cook for me.”

Brendon sighs, but he’s already unbuttoning his top two buttons and taking off his jacket, draping it gently on top of the couch. “You know Pete’s going to kill _me_ if we’re late, right?”

Patrick shrugs and walks to the kitchen before sitting by the counter, where a mug of hot coffee lays on top. He takes a sip calmly, his posture straight, and that’s when Brendon notices the almost-full pot of coffee.

Does that mean Patrick has been in his place for a while?

“How long have you been here?” He asks as he rolls up his sleeves and swiftly pulls out a bowl and flour to prepare the pancake batter. They have about one hour to get to the church and get Patrick ready, so he’d better start now and not waste any second.

“A while.” Patrick answers, legs swinging back and forth on the stool, and he looks around the kitchen. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to your place, huh?”

Technically it’s been 18 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days since Patrick’s been to his place. Because that’s when Patrick started moving in together with Dallon. But who’s counting?

He mixes all the ingredients into a batter and heats up the pan, ignoring the weird atmosphere between them. “So, why are you here? Don’t tell me it’s just for the pancakes.”

“I’m here for the coffee too, actually.”

Brendon snorts a laugh and pours the batter into the pan, and the uneasiness he felt earlier dissipates. Just like old times. Maybe some things _haven’t_ changed after all. “Glad my place can be of your service.”

He places two plates of pancakes on the counter—one for him and one for Patrick—before taking a seat across him. He quickly digs in, not wanting to be late, but by the time he almost finishes with his breakfast, Patrick’s still on his first layer. 

His brows furrow. “Patrick, come on. We’re late.”

Patrick looks up at him with a creased forehead. “Late for what?”

Brendon shoots him an incredulous look. Is Patrick high right now? “Your _wedding?_ ”

Patrick places the fork and knife down, expression blank as he steeples his fingers. “Do you remember last night?”

“Yeah, we went out, didn’t we?”

“I mean after that. Do you remember anything?”

Brendon looks down at his steaming mug of coffee. Last night… last night when he got drunk all by himself? Is Patrick talking about that? Wait, how does he know about that?

“You called me.”

His neck snaps up as his eyes meet Patrick’s, and his stomach drops to his feet at the look in Patrick’s eyes. He called Patrick? What did he say to Patrick in their phone call last night? “What?”

“You called me.” Patrick repeats himself, gaze unwavering. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

He feels like throwing up. His lips are dry, and there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. He has an inkling about what he said, but there’s no way that happened, right?

Patrick gets off the bar stool to stand in front of him, and Brendon holds his breath as his heart pounds in his chest. If the room were any quiet, he’s sure the sound of his heartbeat would echo throughout the kitchen.

“Is it true? Do you love me, Brendon?”

His heart stops, mouth falling agape. He can’t be hearing this right. He must be dreaming. Patrick didn’t just say what he just said. He pulls his hands to his lap, fiddling with his thumb as he tries to get air back into his lungs. This can’t be happening. This _isn’t_ happening.

He looks away and changes the subject, and he curses when his voice breaks. “We’re going to be late for your wedding.”

Patrick ignores his words. “Do you love me?”

Yes. _Yes._ Of course he does. A million times yes.

Blood pounds in his ears. He doesn’t have to look up to know Patrick is looking straight at him, unyielding and determined for the truth. He could lie, tell him that it’s nothing and it’s just something he says to everyone when he’s drunk, but this… this could also be a chance. This could be his _last_ chance to tell his feelings to Patrick. 

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and faces Patrick. “Yeah, I do.”

Patrick doesn’t say anything; he keeps his eyes on Brendon, unnerving him. The silence is too much and too awkward for Brendon to bear, so he decides to break it before it gets worse.

“We should, um,” Brendon scratches the back of his head, “we should go. We’re already late.”

He hops from his stool and turns around to go to the sink, but he stops in his tracks when Patrick finally voices out. 

“We’re not going to be late.” Patrick’s voice sounds so calm behind him, and Brendon wishes he can be half as calm as Patrick is at the moment. “Because there’s not going to be a wedding today.”

Wait. What?

Brendon spins on his heels, eyes widening. “What did you say?”

Patrick shrugs and looks to the side, and when Brendon looks closer, there’s a small, shy smile playing on Patrick’s lips. “How can I get married when I just found out that you love me back?”

Love him _back?_ Does that mean Patrick love him? Holy shit, Patrick loves him back!

“You’d better not be fucking kidding me right now, Stump.” Despite his hardest to fight back, a wide grin stretches his face, and he feels warm all over, drunk and high off the feeling at the moment.

Patrick glances up at him, eyes crinkling with smile and affection. “I guess we’re both idiots. We should’ve told each other sooner rather than on my wedding day.”

“What about the wedding?”

“I met up with Dallon before I came here.” Patrick picks his fork back up and continues to eat his already-cold pancakes. “Told him I couldn’t go on with the wedding.”

“What did he say?”

“I could see that he’s upset, but it’s cool between us, I think. We agreed to stay as friends, but we’re going to take some time apart for a while, just until the whole thing has cooled down.”

“That’s… good.” Brendon still can’t believe what’s happening or what _just_ happened. Everything feels too much like a dream, so he pinches himself when Patrick isn’t looking. The pain he feels brings a smile on his face. It’s not a dream! “That’s really good.”

“Oh, and you might want to avoid Dallon for a while, too.” The corner of Patrick’s lips quirk up in a cheeky grin. “He might or might not punch you in the face if he sees you.”

“Fair enough.” Brendon nods, placing his plate in the sink before going back to sit at the counter. “I feel bad for him, though. I know how much he loves you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I do have a question, though. You said you called off the wedding before—” he gestures to the space between them, “this, so what would you do if it turned out I didn’t love you?”

“Then I'd still make the right thing.” Patrick tells him with a shrug. “It's not fair to Dallon to enter a marriage with someone who's in love with someone else.”

He can’t help the smile that seemingly can’t stop growing on his face. “You know Pete’s still going to kill me, right? He’d probably think that I convinced you to run away.”

Patrick lets out a chuckle. “Oh, come on. Pete’s not that bad. He’s just a little bummed out that he didn’t get to be the best man.”

“Yeah, _why_ didn’t you make him the best man? I thought for sure you’d pick him over literally anyone.”

“Maybe I just want you to stand next to me on the altar.”

All his insides melt into a gooey puddle from how _cheesy_ Patrick is being. God, he still can’t believe his feelings are reciprocated! “Well, I’ll be sure to do that on your next wedding.”

“You’d better.” Patrick quips with a playful glint in his eyes. “Or I’m going to have to drag you down the aisle myself.”

Brendon laughs. “I’d like to see that happen.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it! no angst ending for this one :)))


End file.
